Glass Beads

by Dawn Dumont

  “You don’t know what’s really important,” Everett would tell him, as if he had it all figured out. Everett had that whole fucking house to himself so he didn’t understand what everyone else was dealing with.

  Taz had moved Nellie and Julie into his apartment. They didn’t want to go back to their place after that girl died there. He didn’t want Nellie to move in but of course Julie wouldn’t go without her. Nellie was okay but he hated the way she watched everything like a goddamn spy. He left the toilet seat up and she was the first one to complain. He raised his voice and her lips pinched together. He had a beer and she started counting. He couldn’t even be himself in his own place. He wished that Everett would move her in — even told him to — but Everett just laughed.

  Nellie had a hard-on for that dipshit that bordered on obsession. She was a smart enough chick but not smart enough to know that she should be with someone more like her. She clung to Everett like a kid with her red balloon.

  Being with Julie made living with Nellie easier to bear. She came home and laid down on top of him, smelling like smokes, booze and hairspray, and he never smelled anything so good in his life. They would melt together until Nellie came in and planted herself on the other chair, not looking at them but very much watching them.

  Taz and Everett stayed long at the dealer’s house because Everett was trying to get some mushrooms out of the guy for free. Everett would fuck a dead horse if he thought there was something in it for him. He was always telling Taz that money didn’t matter. And yet the guy was always desperate for it like a junkie. It flowed through him and Taz wondered if Nellie knew what she was getting herself into.

  The dealer had this seventeen-year-old cousin who took a liking to Everett so then he had to fuck her in the bathroom. The dealer turned up the music to drown out the sound. The girl was pudgy in the middle with angry pimples across her chin; even Nellie was hotter than this pork rind. Taz couldn’t figure out why Everett would waste his time but Everett was like that. Part of his free life philosophy or something.

  Taz had been free his whole life and didn’t see the fucking thrill. Being tied to something, having people depend on him, wanting to be him, that’s where the real thrill was. Having people wait on the precipice for his decision, that was power.

  People were already asking him to run for grand chief of the Assembly of Saskatchewan Chiefs. He always looked them in the eye and looked for their underneath thoughts. He was good at that. “There’s always another level,” his dad used to tell him. They might be encouraging him to run but only to find out what his ambitions were and how they might exploit them.

  Taz’s dad had made it to chief of his reserve that only had five hundred members. But that didn’t stop Old Sam from talking a big game over beers at the dinner table. “You come from chiefs, you’re a chief,” he would tell Taz, sometimes in a proud voice, sometimes angry, sometimes with tears making rivulets down his pockmarked skin.

  Then Sam would break out the stories. Some of them were self-pitying tripe about how people were never grateful and how even your best friends would fuck you over if push came to shove.

  But others were about strategy, like about how to make them want the same things you did and make them think that it was their idea all along.

  And then other stories about when to stand firm, when to compromise, when to bitch-slap motherfuckers until they towed the line. Taz listened to them all.

  Taz figured his dad could have had it all. But too many nights sitting at the table until five in the morning, Sam would blame it on twenty different things. Taz hated that weak shit. Nothing and nobody could stop you, if you really wanted something.

  Everett finished with the girl and they went out to the car. It was five and already fucking cold. The cut off for the tickets was at six. Taz raced across town while Everett described this spot on the girl’s vagina that had felt like a tongue.

  “It was like rubbing on my dick. Drove me crazy.”

  “Herpes.”

  “Nah, shit, it wasn’t that.”

  “It was fucking herpes.”

  “Fuck don’t tell me that. I gotta act straight.”

  “Shut up for a second then.”

  “Did you do that coke?”

  “No. And don’t ask ’cause I’m not sharing it.”

  “Nah, fuck, I already took something. That girl had some acid.”

  “That was dumb.”

  “I know right. I’m not even sure why I—” He stopped.

  Taz looked over and Everett was staring at the ceiling.

  He drove on and hoped that no cop would pull up beside them and see the dumb Indian staring up at the ceiling like a dead person.

  He pulled up at the bar and ran in for the tickets. He didn’t want to go to the bar at all but he had to make an appearance. He had to get out there and buy drinks and punch fists and be that guy.

  Then he filled up the car and headed home. As he was pulling up in front of the building he looked over at Everett. “Wake up, fuck-face.”

  Everett was staring at his hands. “There’s spiders on the mattress. Where’s the flyswatter?”

  “Get out of the car.”

  Everett nodded. But then instead of opening his car door, he climbed through the middle of the two front seats and slumped across the backseat. He was combing over the car seats with his hands. “Lots of spiders.”

  “None of that shit. We’re home. Get the fuck inside.”

  “Do you know that spiders kill fifteen thousand children a year? I read that.”

  “You don’t know how to read, you fucking moron.”

  Everett started to laugh. His shoulders moved up and down and he shook but no sound came out.

  Taz slammed the door and headed inside. He didn’t know much about acid but Everett did. He should, he chewed through everything like a garbage disposal. Everett even tried dealing for a while — which was how they met in the first place but he couldn’t sell right. He gave stuff away or smoked it all up or lost it. He was probably the worst drug dealer the city had ever seen. He actually failed at being a drug dealer. That never failed to amaze Taz.

  Taz opened the door and heard music. The girls were in the bedroom when he got in. He pulled a beer from the fridge and cracked it, loving that sound. He pounded it back.

  Nellie turned the corner, “Where’s Everett?”

  “Outside.”

  “How cold is it?”

  “Cold.” If a northerner said it was cold, it was fucking cold.

  “I’m not wearing a dress,” Julie yelled from the bedroom. “I’m not freezing my ass off.”

  Nellie rolled her eyes and reached past Taz for a beer. “Nobody ever wants to celebrate anything. Did you get the tickets?”

  Taz nodded.

  “I can’t believe this. The first time I’m going out on New Year’s Eve.”

  “That’s fucking sad.” Taz tossed the tickets on the table.

  Julie peeked her head around the corner. “Hey,” she said breathlessly.

  Taz grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards him. She had on a grey-blue strapless dress. It was made for a girl Nellie’s size so on Julie, the skirt ended half way on her thighs making her legs go on forever.

  “What do you think?”

  “You look like a whale.”

  Julie laughed.

  Nellie slapped him in the gut. “What the fuck? Nobody is skinnier than Julie.”

  “I mean the colour of them.”

  “Nah, you think I’m Orca. I get it. He thinks I’m a killer whale.” Julie took a sip of his beer.

  It’s scary how good you look.

  Those words would never come out of his mouth. He took a sip of beer and kissed her right in front of Nellie.

  Taz had never been to the ocean but that’s what kissing Julie felt like.

  He pulled her against him. She was so tall that it was awkward to rest his chin on her shoulder.

  “Where’s Everett?” Nellie was looking at the
door.

  “Outside I told you.”

  “Is he coming in?”

  “I don’t know why he’s out there in the first place.”

  Nellie sighed and went to the door. She piled on her jacket-boots-scarf-gloves and went outside.

  Julie kissed him again and he lost track of time. He came up for air to shoot back another beer.

  “You better start drinking, you’re already two behind,” he told her.

  Julie made a face. “I only stopped throwing up like an hour ago.”

  Taz went to the bathroom. He took the mirror the girls used to pluck their eyebrows and made a line on it with the coke. It was a small line. He snorted. Felt like a nose-ful of angry pepper. He took a sip of beer. Balanced.

  He went back to the living room. Julie joined him on the couch. She had changed back into her usual jeans and sweatshirt combo. He nuzzled her neck and wished that they lived alone especially as Nellie tramped inside. She slammed the door.

  “What is he on?” she demanded of Taz.

  Taz shrugged. “Just relax Nellie.”

  “He’s acting like a fucking lunatic.” She stood there in her tights and snow boots and dress and Taz felt sorry for her.

  “Normal for him.” Taz laughed and Julie giggled into his shoulder.

  “Maybe we should take him to the hospital?”

  “As if.” She was such a bonehead. He’d wrestle the keys away from her before he’d let that happen. Go to the police and she’d get the whole bunch of them thrown in jail for the weekend. She had a room full of books and was still a moron.

  The door opened behind her. Everett peeked around the corner. Nellie peppered him with questions that he wouldn’t or probably couldn’t answer.

  Taz turned on the TV. This wasn’t his problem. He flipped through the channels. Sometimes the States played some good concerts before midnight.

  Everett moved to a chair at the table and looked halfway decent, though his eyes were dilated. Nellie stared at him; she’d run out things to say.

  “Have a beer, Nellie,” Taz called from the living room. “You look too sober.”

  When she turned to him, he could see her mouth trembling like a sick dog. But she went to the fridge and Taz heard the opening of a beer.

  Everett said something, kind of sharp so Taz looked at him. He was mumbling and slowly building volume. Taz realized he was singing. Taz turned down the TV. It took a few seconds for him to recognize the song, “All My Ex’s Live in Texas”. All three of them turned their attention to him. Everett kept singing, confidently like he was a cabaret performer. Julie started clapping along. Taz glanced at Nellie, she looked as shocked as he felt. The song got loud enough for the neighbours to knock on the wall — Taz thought he was nailing it.

  “Way to go Everett” Taz yelled. And Everett stood up and sang the last note, more like a shout than a song at that point. “Hang my head in Tennessee!”

  Taz jumped up to shake his hand. “Where’d you learn that? Your dad?”

  Taz thought that was a fair question so he was surprised when Everett swung at him. Everett was a big guy, long-armed like a chimp so even though Taz ducked, the edge of his fist still connected to the side of his head. “You motherfuck-“ Taz had to duck another punch.

  Nellie jumped in and grabbed Everett’s arm. She hung off it like a cat. Taz grabbed at his other so between the two them they wrestled him back into the seat.

  “What the hell, man?” Taz asked. He was breathless and his ears were still ringing. He wanted to slug the stupid look off Everett’s face but that lunkhead was laughing now. Taz looked at Nellie. She was shaking her head, fretting away with her fingers in her mouth.

  It was Julie who said from behind him, her hand on his arm. “We should go.”

  But first, I’m going to fucking kill this guy. Everett was drinking out of the beer Nellie had handed him. The liquid was dribbling out of the side of his mouth. Taz let Julie pull him away.

  “It’s getting late already.” Her voice was in his ear, the one that was growing hot from where he’d been hit.

  “Better call for a cab then.”

  “I can drive,” Julie said.

  “No, you’re drinking.” This was an order. He didn’t want her standing near the door all night trying to go home.

  “She should drive,” Nellie disagreed, “or we’re gonna be waiting for cabs all night.”

  “Let’s play poker!” Everett said, his head on the kitchen table now like he was trying to pass out.

  “Nobody’s playing. And take your fucking shoes off, you’re making the floor wet.” Taz snatched his beer off the table. Too bad it was illegal to beat up the mentally handicapped.

  They played quarter bounce until the cab came. Everyone drank but Nellie probably the most. She had a determined look on her face as she stared at Everett across the table.

  Taz went to the bathroom one more time before they left. He had a long night of fistbumping in front of him and wanted to have enough energy to do it.

  The bar was a trip. Some dude dressed up as the year 1996 and everyone took turns slapping and kicking him at him on the dance floor. “Die, die, die!” they chanted and everyone laughed.

  “5–4–3–2 . . . ”

  Taz and Julie danced to “Auld Lang Syne” which he had never figured out. “Nellie’s crying in the bathroom,” Julie whispered in his ear, “because she can’t find Everett.” He ignored that. They weren’t his problem.

  He felt like there were people cheering. Why were they cheering?

  “4–3–2 . . . ” Taz found himself taking a swing at a guy. Guy was a lot bigger and Taz’s fist bounced off his chin and drunk as he was, he could feel a stinging in his wrist.

  “There’ll be times when you only get one swing,” his dad’s voice cautioned. Taz saw the next fist before it hit him. He smelled, then tasted the blood. It shot directly to the back of his throat and he choked a little. He threw another fist as he went down.

  All the way down. Feet. Lots of girls wearing high heels — in the middle of fucking winter? What the fuck.

  Then lower. He couldn’t see nothing, he could barely hear. “Julie?”

  Stairs. They were carrying him out. The snow was fucking cold. They stood him up and he felt sick. He was going to be sick. He put his head down and saw all the blood in the snow. There was a hand on his waist, then, “Oh, Taz.”

  Why were people laughing? What were they laughing at? He wasn’t the person to laugh at. He started swinging again and when his fist connected, it didn’t feel right.

  1 . . .

  He woke up. The sun was streaming in because someone had torn the curtains down. One clung to the corner of the rod. Taz reached across the bed, the mattress felt cold. There were footsteps in the hall. He tried his voice. It was too dry and it took much effort. A woman was crying.

  He followed the sound because on the other side of it was the kitchen where there was water and for God’s sake he might be dying but he wanted water first. He struggled to his feet and used the wall for support.

  He called for Julie and hated the sound of his voice, raspy and weak. He opened the door and saw the girls on the floor. He couldn’t tell who was comforting who until they lifted their heads. Nellie’s face was wet with tears and red-tinged. He kept walking past.

  He drank water and felt like it was a food, the most filling food he’d ever eaten. He stayed in the kitchen for a long time, waiting for the tableau around the corner to resolve itself. He heard them murmuring. The pronoun “he” kept coming up. That had to be Everett — where was he? That must be the reason for the tears. “Mexico” that was that student placement that Nellie had been offered. She was leaving then?

  He didn’t want to get his hopes up. He clenched his fist and noticed his knuckles were swollen and there was blood on his high school class ring. He went to the freezer and pushed his hand inside. He held it in the cold next to the vanilla ice cream. Why did everything have to hurt twice as bad when you
were sober? Why couldn’t you feel some of it when you were drunk? Beause maybe that would stop you.

  He stumbled to the bedroom and fell asleep again.

  When he woke, Julie was lying next to him. Her eyes were on his face. He could see a bruise and a scratch by her left eye but it was far up by her temple; her hair could cover it. He closed his eyes again.

  “What do you remember from last night?” she asked. Her voice was like a rabbit’s footprints on new snow.

  She fell asleep waiting for his answer.

  The Resistance

  May 1997

  NELLIE WALKED THROUGH THE automatic doors and was hit full in the face with a draft of hot wind. She staggered; the difference was so extreme.

  She stopped to catch her breath and look around. Everyone was greeting family and friends and not paying any attention to her. She was grateful for that. She pulled a worn itinerary from her purse and unfolded it. “Station four,” she said through parched lips, “Four PM.” She had no idea what time it was and attempted to do the math in her tired brain — why couldn’t she sleep on planes? (Because I need to be awake to keep the plane in the air through my will alone.)

  She left Saskatoon at 6:00 AM. She stood in line next to her mom, Natalie, who was sipping a coffee and giving her tips about surviving in Central America even though she’d never left Saskatchewan herself. “You can’t drink the water, no matter how much they want you to. You know, the Queen only travels with her own water — ”

  “How is that remotely relevant?”

  “ — and if someone tries to sell you something, never take the first price, always ask for less. It’s rude if you don’t haggle. And, snakes — there are lots of snakes — make sure you always wear long socks.”

  “I’m not wearing socks in thirty degree weather.”

  “And don’t forget to enjoy yourself, you earned it. You got into into law school.” Natalie said this loudly — so that everyone within a half mile distance could hear.

  Nellie cringed. “Geez, Mom.” And then bent her head so that her mom could kiss her forehead.